


SEASON 24, EPISODE 1 - 'SOCIAL DISTANCING'

by irreputablyyours



Category: South Park
Genre: Coronavirus/Covid-19, Gen, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreputablyyours/pseuds/irreputablyyours
Summary: Coronavirus comes to South Park! Randy accidentally digs up a conspiracy by selling weed, Cartman plans to rid the Earth of the weak, and Stan just wants to go to his concert, please.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	SEASON 24, EPISODE 1 - 'SOCIAL DISTANCING'

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been down about this whole Coronavirus thing, and this bad mood only deepened when I realized that South Park was not around to mock it. I thought, 'well, someone's gotta do it, and it may as well be me.'  
> This is basically an episode of South Park, to the best of my imitations. If you find anything in that show offensive, you will likely find this fic offensive too. Don't say I didn't warn you.  
> I have no experience with writing South Park, nor writing scripts. I'm a big fan of the show, but obviously I own nothing, and my scriptwriting is amateur. Please tell me if you find any mistakes, or have any critiques/criticisms of the format or content.  
> Otherwise, enjoy!

INT. SCHOOL - MORNING

STAN, KYLE, CARTMAN & KENNY are walking through the hallways. STAN has two tickets in hand.

STAN

The concert starts at eight on Saturday, so we’ll probably have to leave at seven. Kyle, you’re coming, right?

KYLE

I don’t know, dude. Aren’t we supposed to be avoiding stuff like that? My mom says we should be locking ourselves inside and refusing to leave.

STAN rolls his eyes. 

STAN

Dude, it’s a fucking flu. When was the last time a decent band came to _Denver_? We gotta go!

CARTMAN cuts in. 

CARTMAN

Yeah Kyle, this is obviously God’s way of testing the weak. 

KYLE looks affronted. When he speaks, he is exasperated and annoyed. 

KYLE

What are you talking about, fatass? 

CARTMAN

Kahl, think about it. The world is full of useless grannies and immune-deficient retards. What we need is a worldwide plague to wipe out the weak so that when the aliens come, humanity’s only hope isn’t the scheming diabetic Jews. 

KYLE looks ever more affronted. 

KYLE

If God’s only letting the strong survive, you’re fucking dead! You think ‘the strong’ includes people who believe that Twinkies and McDonalds consist of a balanced diet?

CARTMAN

Hey! I’m not fat, I’m-

STAN sneezes. 

KYLE

You should really get that checked out, dude. 

STAN sighs. 

CUT TO

INT. CAR - AFTERNOON

STAN and RANDY are in the car driving to the hospital. A weed charm hangs from the rearview mirror. 

STAN

Dad, it’s literally just a cold. Why do I have to go to the hospital?

RANDY

Now Stan, your health is your most precious commodity. You should waste it on important things, like alcohol, and prostitutes, not some third world China virus. 

STAN sighs and looks out the window. 

STAN

I just wish someone would hurry up and find a cure. This apocalypse shit gets old quick.

RANDY’s gaze falls to the weed charm on his rearview mirror. 

RANDY 

A cure, you say? 

CUT TO

EXT. TEGRIDY FARMS - AFTERNOON

RANDY is setting up a booth with various types of weed. A large banner hangs at the top of the booth, proclaiming ‘CURE YOUR CORONA’ in big block letters. LINDA walks by. 

LINDA

Is it true that Coronavirus can be cured by weed, Randy? I thought the experts were saying there was no known cure. 

RANDY 

Then you haven’t been reading from the right experts, Linda! Take a look at this right here. Published just yesterday!

RANDY hands Linda a newspaper article with the headline ‘WEED FOUND AS A CURE-ALL TO DEADLY VIRUSES’, with author ‘Randy Marsh’. 

LINDA

Oh, that’s such great news, Randy! I’ve been so worried about Butters. Here, give me a pound. 

LINDA walks away, looking satisfied. RANDY waits for her to walk away, then gives a fist pump with $5000 in hand, before lighting himself a joint and smoking up. Just as he’s finally lit one up, a shadow falls across him, and he drops the cigar. RANDY looks around, affronted. 

RANDY

What the fuck was that?

CUT TO

INT. HOSPITAL - AFTERNOON

STAN is sitting on a cot, while a DOCTOR in a lab coat runs tests on him. 

DOCTOR

Now, Stanley, you’re gonna need to answer a few questions, and I need you to answer them honestly. 

DOCTOR pulls out a clipboard and pen. STAN looks out the window, balancing his elbow on his knee, bored. 

DOCTOR

First off; how amenable are you to anal probing?

STAN

What? No! Not at all!

DOCTOR

Are you sure? Patients say it’s quite enjoyable, and the results come through quickly. 

STAN

...no.

DOCTOR

Really?

STAN

_Yes_.

DOCTOR (snottily) 

Fine then, have it your way.

DOCTOR checks something off on his clipboard, looking disappointed.

DOCTOR

Alright then. Have you ever been to China? 

STAN

Uh...I went to California once. 

DOCTOR

Hmm, yes. 

DOCTOR checks off something else on his clipboard. His phone buzzes, and he picks it up. DOCTOR’s eyes go wide. 

DOCTOR 

Stanley, I’ve got it from a new source. They’re saying there’s a new factor that we hadn’t considered when diagnosing for Coronavirus. 

DOCTOR

Stanley, do you have any...African ancestry? 

STAN looks puzzled. 

STAN

Uh...Don't we all?

DOCTOR pauses gravely, looking down at his clipboard. 

DOCTOR

Stanley. There’s something you need to know. 

CUT TO

EXT. TEGRIDY FARMS - AFTERNOON

RANDY is surrounded by citizens of South Park buying his ‘CURE YOUR CORONA’ weed. TOWELIE is helping him, smoked out of his mind. People all around them are smoking cannabis. 

RANDY 

Hold on this for a sec, okay? Got some business to attend to. 

TOWELIE

...What? Uh…’kay.

RANDY goes behind his barn. He sighs, hands on his knees, and rolls himself another joint. He shakes his head as he smokes. 

RANDY (with a farmer accent)

Hard work, savin’ the good people of South Park from the Chinese disease. 

b.g TOWELIE talking to CUSTOMERS.

TOWELIE

A pound? Yeah, that should cure...you and the kids, yeah. Make sure the kids get at least twenty grams. 

RANDY continues to smoke. Suddenly, a shadow falls upon him. RANDY looks up from his smoke to find a tall AFRICAN staring him down. 

RANDY

Weed’s out front, dude. 

AFRICAN glares. 

AFRICAN

I don't want your fuckin' weed. 

AFRICAN slaps the joint out of RANDY’s hand. RANDY looks confused. 

AFRICAN

What I _want_ is some goddamned answers. 

Behind AFRICAN, OTHER AFRICANS emerge and surround RANDY. 

RANDY (nervously, with a strong farmer accent)

I don’t know what you folks are talkin’ about. I’m just a humble weed farmer, tryin’ to help my community through some hard times-

AFRICAN grabs RANDY by the shirt collar. 

AFRICAN

Don’t fuck with me, you lyin’ sonofabitch. 

RANDY startles, trying to move back. 

RANDY (dropping the accent)

Ah, okay, okay, I know weed doesn’t actually cure Coronavirus. But Tegridy farms is a small business, and we’ve been hit with rough times. No one wants to go out and buy weed if they’re afraid of catching the plague, y’know? So I figured, you know, fudge some facts here, sell some weed there, people’ll be happy and I’ll make some money, huh? 

AFRICAN and HIS FRIENDS stare at RANDY like he’s an idiot. 

AFRICAN

You mean you didn’t _know?_

RANDY

Know what?

AFRICAN

Weed cures _Coronavirus_!

RANDY

Wh-what? It’s a Chinese cold; the cure’s a few days of rest and not being old. 

AFRICAN

It’s not Chinese. And it’s not a cold, either. 

RANDY

What do you mean it’s not Chinese?

AFRICAN

Why would it be?

RANDY

It’s common knowledge that all stupid crap comes from China. Plastic garbage? Chinese. Knit sweaters? Chinese. Coronavirus? _Chinese._

AFRICAN sighs.

AFRICAN

Is this what it feels like to be Nikola Tesla? You do all the work and some retard gets the credit? I am definitively Tesla in this situation. I feel it. 

RANDY pauses. His expression slowly morphs into one of horror. 

RANDY

_You_ created Coronavirus? 

AFRICAN

You would too if everyone thought your entire continent was a shithole! Every time there’s some deadly disease, it’s always _our_ fault. AIDS? Oh, blame the Africans for having sex with monkeys. Ebola? Oh, those poor Africans can’t even afford fucking vaccines. Malaria? Oh yeah, top ten African exports. 

AFRICAN

You’d be fucking mad too! 

RANDY (impressed)

So you gave the Coronavirus to the Chinese to get revenge on them?

AFRICAN looks disgusted, and waves a hand dismissively. 

AFRICAN

The Chinese? No, it was to get revenge on you aid-giving, wishy-washy, pigfucking Westerners! The Chinese were an added bonus!

RANDY looks confused. AFRICAN #2 approaches AFRICAN and puts a hand on his shoulder. 

AFRICAN #2

He’s too stupid, man, he doesn’t get it. 

AFRICAN

How could he _not_ get it! It’s the simplest plan in the world! The only talent Americans have is buying cheap crap from China, so as soon as you put a virus on their junk, bang! Everyone’s infected, worse than in Africa! And finally, the world will see America for what it is- fucking Third World, man!

RANDY

...A virus on my junk…

RANDY finally grasps what AFRICAN is saying. He pulls back, suddenly accusative. 

RANDY

Giving my cheap crap a Chinese virus? Making America a third world country? You- you- you Morrocans won’t get away with this!

RANDY rushes to his car, yelling to TOWELIE. 

RANDY

Towelie! Man the shop while I’m gone! 

CLOSE UP on RANDY’s face. 

RANDY

I’ve got a country to save.

AFRICAN and AFRICAN #2, are still standing by the barn, looking bewildered. 

AFRICAN

Morroco? I’m from Cape Town, you fucker! 

AFRICAN fires a shot off in RANDY’s direction. 

CUT TO

INT. HOSPITAL- AFTERNOON

CARTMAN enters a room full of sick people, wearing a hazmat suit. He is carrying a duffel bag. He prances from bed to bed, humming as he checks vital signs. 

CARTMAN

Hm...Mr. Johnson, eighty-two years old, second case of Coronavirus in South Park… 

The PATIENT that CARTMAN is investigating coughs. CARTMAN pulls away quickly, walking over to another bed.

CARTMAN

Jennifer Miller, pregnant…

CARTMAN moves on to the next patient. 

CARTMAN

And little Sammy Smith, who’s been wracked by a horrifying case of asthma for his whole life. 

CARTMAN moves away, pulling off his mask and shucking his gloves. 

CARTMAN

Well, I’ve seen enough. 

CARTMAN moves to the first bed, beginning to drag it out. Just as he gets to the door, KYLE enters with KENNY in tow. KYLE is angry; KENNY is indifferent. 

KYLE

What are you doing this time, fatass? 

CARTMAN

What does it _look_ like I’m doing, Kahl? I am doing what God would’ve wanted, and ridding the Earth of the weak! 

KYLE

How is that what God would’ve wanted?

CARTMAN

Kyle, I understand your bleeding heart keeps you from having a basic comprehension of both pragmatism and economics, but let me put it to you this way; if you are stupid enough to die of a cold, you deserve it. God understands this. God turns people to salt if he dislikes them, Kahl. God is not a pussy. 

KYLE

It’s not a cold, you idiot! It’s a strand of fucking SARS! Someone over eighty catches it, and they could _die_!

CARTMAN looks confused. 

CARTMAN

They were gonna die anyways, Kahl.

KYLE

Or people with asthma, people with diabetes, people with deficient immune systems-

CARTMAN

Why do we need them in the first place? 

KYLE

Because if we kill everyone who doesn’t fit our definition of perfect, we’d all be dead!

CARTMAN

Kyle, I know you’ve got self-esteem issues, but there’s no need to project. 

KYLE

You son of a-

KYLE and CARTMAN look as though they’re about to get into a brawl, when suddenly CARTMAN pauses and looks away, to where KENNY is siphoning medicine from a PATIENT’s table. KYLE is shocked, CARTMAN is unimpressed. 

CARTMAN (dismissively)

Cold medicine sells cheap on the black market, Kinny. You’d be better off with the next ward- they’ve got opium addicts. 

KENNY continues pocketing medicine. 

KENNY (muffled)

No, you guys, I’ve got the disease. 

KYLE

What? Kenny, what are you doing at school? You should be at home! We’ve all got to self isolate-

CARTMAN rolls his eyes, and cuts KYLE off. 

CARTMAN (in a mocking imitation of Kyle's voice)

‘So as to protect the people in our society who can’t protect themselves.’

KYLE looks shocked.

KYLE

How did you know I was gonna say that?

CARTMAN shrugs. KYLE shakes his head. 

KYLE

Whatever, fatass. You still can’t go around taking people out of medical care! 

CARTMAN

Take people away from medical care? Kyle, you’re forgetting. Pragmatism. There is a much easier solution to this problem. 

CARTMAN reaches into his bag, beginning to pull something out. 

(WHIZZING SOUND)

Suddenly, a bullet flies through the window and shoots KENNY through the head. He falls to the floor, dead. CARTMAN looks surprised.

CARTMAN (impressed)

Shit, I am _good._

KYLE looks very angry, although not about Kenny’s death, just at Cartman’s general existence. He looks down at KENNY’s corpse.

KYLE (exasperated)

Oh my God, they killed Kenny. 

KYLE goes back to glaring at CARTMAN.

KYLE

You won’t get away with this, fatass!

CUT TO

INT. HOSPITAL - AFTERNOON

STAN is sitting on the bed, looking pissed off as he talks to DOCTOR. The two of them are surrounded by DNA tests and medical-looking machines. 

STAN

But dude, the concert’s this Friday! It’s my favorite band! And they’re heroin addicts, so this is probably the last chance I’ll get to see them before they overdose in a bathtub! 

DOCTOR

Stanley, it has been _scientifically proven_ that you have African ancestry. You _must_ go into quarantine. 

STAN

Oh yeah? And how am I supposed to do that? Kick my parents out of the house for a few weeks? Tape off separate sections of the kitchen and only talk through glass walls? 

DOCTOR looks affronted. 

DOCTOR

Why Stanley, no need to be so dramatic. We’ve got the perfect solution for you, right here at the hospital. Follow me.

DOCTOR and STAN walk over to a room labelled ‘social distancing area’. DOCTOR opens the door. Inside the room is what resembles a filthy jail cell, complete with dripping sewage water, rats, and no comforts, furniture, or even a toilet. 

DOCTOR

You’ve just got to spend three months here, and then you’ll be good. 

STAN

_Three months?_

DOCTOR

I know, right? We wanted to try for three years, but the boss told us we didn’t have the funds. Go figure. They treat us like animals here.

CUT TO

INT. HOSPITAL LOBBY - AFTERNOON

SECRETARY is trying to hide her cough in her elbow, glancing around guiltily when she blows her nose. Suddenly, RANDY busts the door open, holding a bag of weed. He waves it threateningly at SECRETARY.

RANDY

Where is my _son!_

SECRETARY

Ah! What? No, I don’t have Corona! Why are you asking? 

RANDY

My son can’t be a third world, citizen, alright? You can’t let him become one of them! He’s a good boy! He eats hamburgers and hates learning and wants to spend most of his life watching TV! He’s a perfectly good first world citizen and no African virus should deprive him of that! 

SECRETARY

Look, if I haf Corona, do you really think I’d be able to go to work? No way, right? There’s no way I have Corona!

RANDY

I have to find him and get him to smoke weed before they send him to Morocco!

SECRETARY is taken aback.

SECRETARY

-Weed?

RANDY

It’s the only cure we have! _Staaaaaan!_

RANDY runs off, leaving some of his weed on the table. SECRETARY eyes it, before taking some in her hand. 

SECRETARY

A cure, you say?

CUT TO

INT. HOSPITAL - AFTERNOON

STAN is standing on the threshold of the cell, looking cross. 

STAN (deadpan)

I still don’t see why I have to do this. 

DOCTOR

Stanley, it’s our social responsibility as good citizens. Now get in the social distancing cell and stop whining. 

STAN

But my concert’s this Friday!

DOCTOR waves a hand. 

DOCTOR (dismissively)

It’ll probably get canceled anyway. 

STAN looks affronted. Suddenly, RANDY busts in through the door, carrying a slightly smaller bag of weed.

RANDY

Stanley!

STAN looks unimpressed. 

STAN

Hi, dad. 

RANDY 

You need to smoke more weed!

RANDY begins frantically rolling a joint. STAN facepalms. 

STAN

Goddamnit, not this again. Dad, I don’t _like_ weed.

RANDY

But Stan, it cures Corona!

STAN rolls his eyes. 

STAN

And cancer. And strokes. And liking _Birds of Prey._

CUT TO

INT. HOSPITAL - AFTERNOON

KYLE sits in a room, holding a bag of M&Ms. PATIENT 2 sits next to him, coughing frantically. 

KYLE

Goddamn that stupid fatass, he never takes anything seriously! I’ve _got_ to show him this illness is to be taken seriously! This is a time of crisis! We need to have empathy for our fellow man!

PATIENT next to KYLE coughs. When he talks, his voice is hoarse and his eyes are red. 

PATIENT 2

‘Scuse me, little boy, but do you think you could pass me some water?

KYLE looks at him, and scoots away, rubbing his hands and eyeing PATIEN5 2 nervously. 

KYLE

Ah, sorry, I’ve got plans. 

KYLE leaves the room. The water glass is just out of PATIENT’s reach. Desperately, PATIENT 2 reaches for the water, coming up short. He falls out of his bed, bangs his head on the ground, breaks an arm. The glass of water falls on him. Then, the bullet that hit KENNY flies through the wall and hits him in the shoulder. PATIENT 2 groans, and then glares at the door that KYLE left through. 

PATIENT 2

Goddamnit.

CUT TO CARTMAN, who has just finished dragging KENNY’s body outside and dropping it off in a garbage can. As he turns to go back to the hospital, he spots a trail of M&Ms. CARTMAN looks affronted.

CARTMAN

I see you, Kahl! You always think I’ll fall for the same stupid tricks, just ‘cause you think I’m fat! Well I’ll tell you what, Kahl, I’m not falling for your dirty Jew tricks! I! Know! Bettah! So whatever you want from me, well, you’re not getting it!

CARTMAN glares at the M&Ms. His expression shifts from anger to contemplation. He inches toward the M&Ms, and finally picks one up. 

CARTMAN

Well, I suppose one little M&M wouldn’t hurt…

CUT TO

INT. HOSPITAL- AFTERNOON

RANDY, STAN, and DOCTOR are in a normal room. RANDY stands at the front of the room, pointing a stick at a PowerPoint graph. The graph is titled; Weed vs. Corona, with a green line on an upwards trend and a red line on a downwards one. 

RANDY

Now Stan, doctor, you can see the correlation here. The more weed sold in South Park, the fewer cases of Coronavirus our town experiences. Compared to Northwest Park, we’ve actually seen a _downwards_ trend in new cases of the virus. At this rate, if we can get each man, woman, and child of our town at least half a pound of weed, we’ll have cured Corona by this time next week. 

STAN raises his hand. 

RANDY

Yes, Stan?

STAN (resigned)

Can I have my phone back? I need to check if they’re canceled my concert. 

RANDY sighs. 

RANDY

Stan, where did I go wrong? What do I have to do to make you understand the importance of weed? 

STAN

You could give me back my phone. 

Suddenly, AFRICAN, AFRICAN 2 and AFRICAN 3 burst onto the scene, guns blazing. 

AFRICAN

Alright motherfuckers, this is the last time anyone rolls a doobie on my watch. 

CUT TO CARTMAN, who is following Kyle’s M&M trail, eating as he goes. 

CARTMAN

Mmm, just one more, gotta get this-

CARTMAN walks into a cell. The door slams shut behind him. 

KYLE

Ha!

CARTMAN

Goddamnit, I was just gonna eat that last M&M-

KYLE

You won’t get away with your stupid crap this time, Cartman! I’m gonna show the world how really full of shit you are! And this time, people will _have_ to listen to reason!

CARTMAN

You think you’re so bloody smart, Kyle! All you are is a bloody self-righteous, hippie, Jew!

KYLE slams the cell door shut on CARTMAN. CARTMAN looks around the cell. A rat fidgets near his foot. CARTMAN shakes his head. 

CARTMAN

Goddamnit!

CUT TO 

INT. HOSPITAL HALLWAY - AFTERNOON

RANDY is laying on a stretcher, with multiple bullet holes in his shoulders, legs, and arms. STAN is looking at the stretcher, concerned. DOCTOR is looking at his clipboard, nonplussed.

STAN (tentatively)

...Dad?

RANDY (hoarsely)

Need...weed…

STAN frowns. 

DOCTOR

Well, Mr. Marsh, as much as we’d love to treat you, seeing as you’ve come into contact with someone who is suspected of having the virus, you need to be put into quarantine for fourteen days. After that, we'll see, and if you live we’ll treat your inevitable infections. 

STAN

What? You do realize he’s going to _die_ without treatment, right?

DOCTOR

Yes, Stanley, but we can’t risk him spreading the Coronavirus. It’s very important that people stay healthy, you know. 

RANDY groans. 

RANDY

Weed…

DOCTOR

Now come with me, we need to go to the social distancing room. 

RANDY, STAN and DOCTOR arrive at the room labeled ‘social distancing room’. KYLE is standing outside. 

KYLE

Dude, what are you doing here?

STAN shrugs. 

STAN

My dad got shot by some Morrocans and now they need to quarantine him. 

KYLE fidgets and looks nervous.

KYLE

Uh...you probably don’t want to use this room…

DOCTOR opens the door. STAN peers inside, and sighs. 

STAN (underwhelmed)

Hi Cartman. 

KYLE

You alright, dude?

STAN

You know, I just wanted to go to this damn concert, and now everyone’s running around acting like this flu’s gonna kill us all and we all have to stay inside and anyone who goes outside’s a serial killer, and we can’t do anything fun, and half the town’s high, and now my dad’s gonna die because of some pissed-off Morrocans and because the doctors are idiots… it just seems like a lot, man. 

KYLE looks confused.

KYLE

But, you know that we have to be responsible, right? It’s a time of crisis. We need to step up to the plate. We can’t all be like fatass there and try to kill people! It’s just not right! This whole situation is very delicate, and people going around throwing caution to the wind - that’s murder! We’re killing people with our incaution and our lack of responsibility! It’s about time our society stepped up to the plate and learned how to sacrifice things for the greater good!

STAN looks into the cell at RANDY and CARTMAN. 

STAN (resigned)

Yeah, whatever you say, dude. 

DOCTOR emerges from the cell, holding his cellphone.

DOCTOR

Stan, we’ve just gotten the news that you are, in fact, a carrier of Coronavirus, so you need to be put in this nice little room for the next few months-

STAN walks into the cell. 

STAN

Yeah, whatever. 

The door closes. RANDY groans. CARTMAN looks around anxiously. 

CARTMAN

So you actually have the virus?

STAN shrugs. 

STAN

Apparently. 

CARTMAN sighs in relief. 

CARTMAN

Oh, thank God. I was beginning to think I’d brought this thing for nothing. 

CARTMAN reaches into his bag and pulls out a gun.

CARTMAN

Goddamn hippies. 

END. 


End file.
